Monday Morning Beckons
by Wanna Be Abby
Summary: Ashes To Ashes fic. Gene loses something dear to him much as he'd be loath to admit it and finds something else more precious along the way. K just to be on the safe side. Reposted due to foulup in original Chapter 2. Grrr.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, the Froggy Muses have alighted upon my overheated brain cell and demanded they be listened to. This idea came from seemingly nowhere but the malestrom (and I just know I've spelt that wrong but bear with me, please?) of my imagination and bit of wish fulfillment. I willingly hold up my hand to being a massive Gene/Alex shipper, guilty as charged m'lud. Two such brilliantly strong characters bouncing metaphorically off each other deserve a bit of flirtation, even if Gene would doubtless be shocked to the very core at the idea of such a suggestion. And you see - that's why I love him. He just can't help himself, whether throwing in a bit of sexually provacative harrassment that today would have him whisked straight into a tribunal of epic proportions, consuming enough strong spirits to warrant a visit from 'Most Haunted' or, despite himself, emotionally throwing himself at Alex. And yet, as we've all witnessed, he's a very different animal than we originally had the dubious pleasure of meeting in LoM with the late lamented Sam Tyler - this Gene Genie is a bit softer round the edges, and a little bit less gob and more vunerable, especially when a certain female DI freefalls into his world.  
This is a multi-chapter effort, so hang on in there. I hope you enjoy it and please - feel free to comment! At time of posting I'm about 30 seconds of screen time from finishing but something is holding me back! Your reviews could well encourage me to close this one down and move onto the next G/A fic :)  
Thanking you all kindly in advance.  
Now - fire up the Quattro!!

**Monday Morning Beckons  
**  
He'd searched all weekend.  
He'd turned his flat upside down.  
He'd looked in suit pockets, trouser pockets, coat pockets.  
He'd removed every cushion that was removable from the sofa and chairs to search.  
He'd even searched in his car, and though it had been unsuccessful in that respect, he had managed to clear out the growing amount of rubbish that had been stuffed in the back, mostly under the driver's seat.  
There was now nowhere left to look. 'Damn.' he muttered and sat down, looking a bit lost and more than a bit worried.  
Gene Hunt had to admit failure - he had lost his favourite tie.  
He knew he'd had it on Friday, he remembered it distinctly.  
He mentally ran through his day, something he tried not to do too often since his move to the Met.

He'd been early in, beating all but the cleaner in. Again, since his move down to London, he'd found it easier to be in early. It helped him get a better grasp on the day ahead. Besides with so many reports flying about, it gave him a good half hour or so to read and try and take in the proposed changes to policing as he knew it.

Ray had rolled in, grunting 'morning Guv' and instantly lighting up whilst he searched for his coffee mug. Chris and Shaz had clocked in shortly afterwards, Chris all adoring looks, and Shaz pretending not to notice so much, and just about getting away with it.

Then Alex had wandered in, all sunglasses and white bomber jacket, putting Gene's senses on high alert for another day.

To try and distract himself, he'd lit up and made himself concentrate on yet another report about the Brixton Riots. After two pages, Gene admitted he hadn't taken more than a couple of things in and tossed the bound paperwork into his 'pending' tray.

He heard the low buzz of human voices that came from the main CID room, the product of open plan working.

Trying to convince himself it was an exercise in monitoring his staff, Gene listened as he heard Ray coughing and winding up Vic, the desk sergeant, about his afro. In the corner, standing by the filing cabinet, Shaz was still with Chris, the young man leaning forward nervously as Shaz hugged a folder to her and looked up him through her eyelashes.

Gene had been fooling himself that he wasn't interested in what Alex was doing, that he couldn't care less what she was involved with.

At her desk, her head propped up with one hand, while the other leafed through a file. No, it wasn't a file, it was a book. He watched her pick up a pen and bend her head to start writing. She was completely absorbed in the task, seemingly oblivious to the conversation of her colleagues and the ringing of the phones around her. He saw her pause, look up into the middle distance and then smile to herself, then start to write again.

What was she writing? And what had made her smile? Damnit, Gene told himself, pull yourself together man. And, as he did so, the phone rang on his desk. He snatched it up, 'Hunt, CID' he barked. And then listened. 'Right. We'll be there.' he finished, nodded curtly and slammed the phone down. He stood up, grabbing his jacket as he did so and shoving the two way radio into his pocket, he flung open the door of his office and marched out into the main space beyond.

The inhabitants of the fluorescently lighted room stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Gene cast his eyes around and they finally stopped on Alex. Even she had stopped writing, but the pen was paused in midair, and she wore an amused expression when he finally locked eyes on her.

'Drake, get your coat.'

'If I must…' she told him and closing the book she had been writing in, she opened one of her desk drawers, dropped the book in it, locked it and pocketed the key.

As they walked through the corridors with him, she slipped her coat on and produced her sunglasses, ready to fend off the summer's strong sunshine outside.

'This is just too 'Miami Vice' meets 'The Sweeney'' Alex muttered as they stepped into the Audi.

'Flash bastards.' Gene told her and starting up the car they roared off down the street.

Gene stood up from his sofa and walked to the window in his kitchen. It wasn't much of a view, overlooking a communal garden he only used when the sun was hot and his flat was too stuffy.  
Nothing there to suggest where he'd left the damn tie. Why was it bugging him so much? He knew he could go out and get another tie. In fact, he had quite a collection in his wardrobe, he didn't need another tie at all.  
But his tie had been a present. Not from his ex-wife, long gone and departed leaving recriminations and dissatisfaction in her wake.  
It had been a present from Sam Tyler.

One night, in the Railway Arms, Sam had walked up to him and handed Gene a small gift wrapped box. Annie had stood behind Sam, grinning at them both.

'Guv - small token of our esteem.' Sam had told him. 'It's not Christmas!' 'No, but it is your birthday.' Sam replied. Gene had been floored. He took the gift and shoved it in his pocket, promising to open it later, and covering up his embarrassment by demanding they buy him the most expensive scotch Nelson could provide.

When he opened the present a few weeks later, Sam was dead.  
The entire of CID was numb from the loss.  
Annie was on extended leave.  
And Gene had decided that he could no longer stay in the place he had loved so much, but now held such an appalling memory.  
He had to leave, to move away from the shock of this unforgivable event.

So he had applied to come on secondment to the Met.  
So what if he slagged off London like City fans abused United?  
So what if he thought everyone in the South lived the high life leaving the North to go to the dogs?  
So what if he would have to learn to drink wine and champagne instead of a decent beer?  
He had made his bed, and, as his father used to slur, he would have to learn to lie in it.

Alone.  
Even though Ray and Chris had followed shortly afterwards, Gene was aware that the old ties had been stretched thin since their leaving of North West HQ.  
Ray and he would occasionally go for an overpriced beer when they first arrived, but now, the new CID - his new CID, decamped en-masse to Luigi's.  
And Gene had learned that actually, wine wasn't that bad at all.  
But he was still alone.

Outside of work, away from Luigi's, he'd retreated within himself, a man alone and learning to live with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Gene shook his head and lit up again. 

This sort of retrospection wasn't helping at all. 

He went back to his reviewing of the last day he had definitely worn his tie. Sam's tie. 

He and Alex had been called out to deal with a shooting incident, but when they arrived at the scene, it turned out an overzealous Community Watch committee member was responsible for the wasting of their time. 

'I assure you, Officer,' said the prim man, standing in front of Gene, 'that young man is on a slippery slope! I merely performed my civic duty!' 

Gene took a deep breath to tell this small, moustachioed prat, standing there in a suit but still wearing carpet slippers, exactly what he, Gene Hunt, would like him to do with his Civic Duty. 

'We appreciate your Community spirit, sir' purred Alex beside him, 'And please, don't hesitate to call us should something like this occur again, though perhaps it would be better to contact your local police station rather than dialling 999 in future?' She smiled winningly and fluttered her eyelashes. 

The little man's antagonistic attitude melted in front of this onslaught of charm, and he simpered and stuttered that, in future, he would, and that he hoped he had caused any inconvenience. 

Alex assured him that wasn't the case at all, and that it was honest people like himself who were helping keep the streets safe. 

Gene fumed beside her, unable to say or do anything but remain calm on the outside. 

Internally, however, he was boiling. 

They watched the little man walk back to his house and shut the door. 

The small crowd that had collected to watch the proceedings had been dispersed by a local police officer, and only a small child, messily eating a dripping ice-cream had remained to watch the adults. 

'I do not believe you!' Gene hissed at Alex as they walked back to the Audi. 

Alex leant up against the red car, her bomber jacket long ditched in the back seat, sunglasses perched on her head. She looked Gene straight in the eye and shrugged. 

'Oh calm down. I hardly think a teenager's bad shot with an airgun is the start of a major crime wave.' 

'I wasn't talking about the spotty Herbert quaking in his plimsolls! I was talking about the prat who called this three ring circus waste of time into existence!!' Gene was furious. 

Alex fanned herself with one hand whilst pulling her sunglasses over her eyes with the other. 

'Oh just leave it! It's too hot for this sort of aggravation. Look, the teenager has been lectured suitably, and instead of a complaint against us for abusing the public, that man now thinks he's the hero of the hour. Fancy an ice cream?' 

'No, I do not fancy an ice cream!!' Gene told her, even though the idea had a strong lure in the oppressive heat. 

'Shame,' Alex replied as she levered herself away from the car, 'I'm buying...' and she walked over to the white van still tinkling music down the street. 

Gene forced himself back in the car and slammed the door. 

'Bloody woman!' he fumed, though he couldn't resist watching Alex slowing walking back to the car whilst putting a large dent in a ice-cream cone. 

'And don't think you can come in here dripping that all over my upholstery!!' Gene told her, leaning over and locking the door. 

'Suit yourself!' Alex told him and proceeded to slowly eat her ice cream with a relish rarely witnessed outside a Wall's advert. 

Eventually, after Gene had revved the engine several times, and then remembered to unlock the door, Alex climbed inside and angled herself so she could catch some of the slipstream breeze to cool herself. 

This meant she was able to sit at a disturbingly close angle to Gene. 

A fact he tried hard to ignore. 

Arriving back at the office, he was summonsed to a review meeting by his boss, and he spent the rest of the day feeling more and more annoyed at the whole damn system he worked in. 

Arriving back in CID later than he had anticipated, he found everyone gone home for the weekend and a note stuck to his office door.

'Went to Luigi's without you, you're buying!' - the scrawl probably Ray's he thought, Chris wouldn't have the nerve to leave anything like that. 

Packing his desk up, remembering to properly shut down his computer instead of just pulling the plug on it, Gene stood up and stretched. 

The heat has dissipated a little, and the temperature was more bearable. He picked up his jacket and checked his wallet. 

He was just debating whether he could be bothered to go to Luigi's when it dawned on him - what else did he have to do? Go home? Sit alone in his flat with whatever was on the tv? 

Alex had asked him last week if he ever got lonely, and instead of ignoring the question or starting an argument, he told her the truth. He had been drunk, fair cop, but not that drunk. 

For some unfathomable reason, he could be honest with Alex. Something he found nigh on impossible to be with anyone else these days. 

Alex would be at Luigi's. 

She had little choice really, as her flat was two floors above it. 

That decided Gene. He would go to the Italian, and have a few drinks with the rest of CID. 

He would try to see if he could manage to have a proper conversation with Alex, not work related for once. And he would buy her dinner. 

Just casually. 

She had to eat didn't she? 

Gene's head shot up. 

Of course! That's where it must be!


	3. Chapter 3

Before I post Chapter 3, can I just say a hussive thank you to my very kind reviewers who felt moved enough by my meagre scribblings in Chapter 1. Thank you very much, I appreciate your comments! Due to typo - and late night original writing, poor ol' Desk Sgt Viv ended up as 'Vic' - thanks for hauling me up for that one :)  
Okay, on with the story, I hope you continue to enjoy it.  
The usual disclaimers apply: I own nothing. All hail the Mighty Quattro, and Gene, how I love you, let me count the ways...

**Chapter 3**

He'd gone to Luigi's, where CID had decamped en-masse to start the end of the week celebrations with gusto.

Chris and Shaz were sitting in one of the coveted corner seats, surreptitiously holding hands, while Ray was pontificating through a cloud of cigarette smoke at the bar.

Ales perched at her usual chair at the opposite side of the bar, legs tucked up under the seat, manicured fingers curled round a glass of red wine.

And then, somehow, he'd got caught up in a conversation that had seemed so urgent and that had to be had there and then, then when he next looked up, she was gone.

Her empty wine glass sat alone at the bar.

He hasn't bothered excusing himself from the table where he had been sitting, nursing what must have been his third or fourth pint, he'd simply slammed the glass down on the table and marched over to the bar.

Luigi leant on the other side, humming tunelessly to something on the stereo and polishing a glass. It was his default setting Gene had decided. If the world was ending, Luigi would be found, humming tunelessly and polishing a wine glass.

'Signor Hunt!' Luigi greeted him.

'Where is she?' Gene demanded.

'She?' Luigi raised a bushy eyebrow in query, not quite making eye contact with Gene.

Gene leant over the bar and hissed in the Italian's ear, 'You bloody well know who I'm talking about! Tell me right now or I'll, I'll, I'll'.

The impossible happened. Gene Hunt was speechless.

So desperate was he to know where Alex was, to know that she was alright, to just see her and make eye contact and watch as her hair bobbed as she acknowledged him back, that words were a waste of time.

Luigi stepped back and smiled nervously.

'She left.'

'And?!' Gene growled, 'Stop playing games Luigi, this isn't bloody well being taken down and used in evidence. Yet!!'

'She left, about 10 minutes ago.'

'Did she say where she was going?'

'Eh, I am a barman, not her confessor!' Luigi paused and looked away at the main crowd from CID, playing for time.

Gene knew that look well. It was one he used round Alex when he wanted to talk to her but didn't have a clue what to say.

The look that bought him time with her, precious seconds when he was the most important person in her mind.

'What?' he asked, using a softer tone of voice.

'She looked tired, Signor Hunt, very tired. I tried to talk to her, to take that sadness from her eyes, but Luigi?' he shrugged his shoulders hopelessly, 'Luigi is not the man she wanted to talk to tonight.'

'Luigi, what the bloody hell are you whittling on about?!'

The Italian leant conspiratorially across the bar, folding his arms as he did so.

'Signor Hunt. Please listen to me. The signorina, she is a beautiful woman. She is also full of fire, of passion! She is not happy tonight, and wine, wine is not helping her. She doesn't not need to talk to me, poor elderly Luigi! She needs a strong man to make her laugh, to give her some joy!'

Gene narrowed his eyes, was Luigi telling him what he thought he was, or was this some weird windup?

'I tell you, Signor Hunt, the signorina fluttered like a butterfly when the young man bought her lunch here last week. And he was attentive, keen! But he has not been here for over a week, and she does not mention him.'

Gene knew exactly who the 'keen young man' was - Evan. Bloody lawyer. Sniffing round his DI like he was God's Gift?

Luigi noted the slitted eye look Gene was exhibiting. Excellent! The Signorina, she was a good match for Signor Hunt.

And Luigi, sensing he must come to the point of this little chat, pressed on.

'This young man, he is not here tonight. He does not come here searching her out. And so she sits here, alone, nursing her glass of wine and looking sad.'

He paused, and then went in for the kill.

'And it is not him she is thinking of tonight. It is not him she is watching across my bar. Oh no! Signor Hunt, it is not any other man she has been unable to take her eyes off. She thinks old Luigi does not see! But she is wrong!'

Gene's head spun round and he locked eyes on Luigi.

Alex had been looking at him? Watching him? Surely not! She could have had any man in at least a ten mile radius, with one flick of her mascared lashes and a slip of her posh mouthy accent - and yet, according to this Italian barman, DI Alex Drake had been watching him.

'You allow me to make a suggestion? Signor Hunt?' Luigi knew he must tread carefully.  
The English policeman had a large temper, and he must be sure to make certain this taciturn man from England's murky North went in the right direction.

'You suggest all you bloody like, Luigi,' Gene told him, lighting up a cigarette to cover up the many disturbing thoughts currently running through his head, 'If I don't like them, I'll just punch them away, alright?'

Luigi gulped, nervously. He lowered his voice.

'I have the most succulent hand made pasta cooking in the kitchen. Go and see the Signorina, who is alone, in her apartment, and take her dinner. Talk to her. Make her smile again.'

Gene squinted through the haze of his cigarette. The idea had merit, he couldn't deny it.

'Alright,' he said, blowing out a cloud of smoke that wouldn't have shamed a power plant, 'go on then Luigi. You're on.'

Luigi clapped his hands together and smiled broadly.

Gene pointed at him, 'But don't you let on what's happening here - alright? One word gets back to CID and I promise you'll regret it!'

'Signor Hunt! Discretion is my middle name!'

And so saying, the Italian backed away into his kitchen, smiling broadly and singing under his breath.

Gene leant back against the bar. This could work, he told himself, pulling on his cigarette. Casually pop up to Alex's flat and present her with dinner. She couldn't possibly say no.

Sudden cold fear clasped at his stomach.

She could possibly say no.

It was a real possibility.

Gene spun round, wanting to stop Luigi, to tell him that it was a crap idea, to put away the meal and pass another pint over the bar.

But Luigi was long gone. And Gene could hear the faint sound of pans and kitchen implements being wielded with serious intent.

Oh God. It was too late. Wheels were in motion, and there was no time to back out.

He loosened his tie and, realising he would kill for a drink, went behind the bar and poured himself a stiff whiskey.

In the fullness of time, Luigi beckoned Gene to the far side of the bar, to a small door labelled 'Kitchen' which was away from the full on frenzied noises coming from the CID claimed area.

He held out a paper bag, and Gene saw foil containers stacked inside.

Money changed hands, and Gene, sliding the bag to his far side, nodded thanks to the Italian and walked quickly out of the bar.

In the still heat of the oncoming evening, he looked up to Alex's flat window. He knew by heart which one it was, the red Venetian blinds hanging there. The window itself was cranked wide open to catch any breeze that might be passing by.

Before he had the time to change his mind and head home with the meal he carried, Gene took a deep breath and marched up in the main entrance and up the stairs towards Alex's front door.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I blush at the praise - no, really I do! Thanks so much for all the lovely feedback and comments on the story so far.  
Now, if you've just stumbled across me with this fic, I fear you need to leave this right now, and go and read my previous effort - called 'Stay the Night?'. Without it, I fear this chapter will make little or no sense.  
In fact, even if you have read 'Stay the Night?' before, go on, off you go and read it again. I did and boy, did it make this next bit more enjoyable!  
Back now? Great - once again, thank you kindly, I curtsy in a wobbly stylee, and draw back the curtains for…

**Chapter 4**

Gene scrubbed at his face. And that's where he had ended up on Friday night. Pleasantly drunk and, forbidden to drive by Alex, crashed out on her sofa.

He remembered catching her hand as she walked past him, thinking him asleep.

She had laid a thin cover over his dozing form, unaware that he had felt every touch of her fingers as she has pressed the cotton material round him.

He'd heard the blush in her voice when he had asked for a goodnight kiss, and confirmed it by sneaking a look at her face when she bent down to switch the table light off at the end of the sofa.

He laid there, listening to her moving around in the kitchen, putting plates in the sink, then hearing the click of the bathroom door, the running water and her movement into her bedroom.

It was strangely comforting. Having someone else about in his space.

Well, he corrected himself, his borrowed space.

He'd slept well that night, aided only partly by the alcohol consumption.

Waking at just before eight on Saturday morning, he'd effected a swift egress, not wishing to have her see him dishevelled from sleep and unshaven.

He'd pulled his boots on, and struggled into his jacket, folding the sheet he'd been under neatly and placing back on the rearranged sofa.

Just before he left, he'd meant to write a short note, but as he found a pen, he'd heard unmistakeable sounds of Alex rising.

He'd shot out of her flat, down the stairs, into his car and driven home before he could think twice.

Which is why it had taken him till tonight to realise that he'd forgotten something.

His tie.

His favourite tie.

The tie from Sam Tyler.

It was at Alex's flat. Probably down the back of the sofa. Or underneath it.

Well, at least he knew where it was now.

All he had to do was get it back.

Without an audience of CID.

Well, that wasn't going to be awkward, now was it?

Across town, Alex sat on her sofa, glass of wine in one hand, 'Songs Of Praise' on the television.

Not that she was watching it.

She was staring at a tie, neatly folded on her coffee table.

When she had got up on Saturday morning, she had found herself alone in her flat.

Gene had gone.

The sofa was tidy, and the sheet she had tucked around him was neatly folded on the arm.

No note, no message. Not even a phone call later that day, or this.

She had been hoovering that afternoon, when she had seen the edge of the tie poking out from beneath the sofa, and she had retrieved it, wondering initially what it was.

As she held the strip of material in her hands, the Hoover droning away to itself, time had ceased to pass for her.

Eventually she had placed the tie on her coffee table and made herself finish her set chores.

Now she sat, feet tucked up under her on the sofa, watching the folded tie like it would turn into a poisonous snake and leap for her jugular.

She reached forward and picked it up, placing her wine glass carefully on the floor.

Despite herself, she lifted the tie to her face and breathed in. Blushing she placed it in her lap and closed her eyes.

It smelt of tobacco smoke, and, well, him.

Alex had never really appreciated her sense of smell until she had arrived in 1981. Perfumes seemed stronger, cigarette fumes more choking, the carbon monoxide in the air more cloying.

God knows what aftershave Gene Hunt wore, but despite a lifelong aberration of men's fragrances, Alex was drawn to it.

Like a large glass of wine after a hard day.

Like an episode of 'Dynasty' for light relief.

Like, God Help Her, she realised, she was drawn to DCI Gene Hunt.

Construct or not, she couldn't help herself. And it was time she stopped trying to fool herself about it all.

Alex took a deep breath and held the tie to her.

'Well, my twisted subconscious, Lord alone knows what I'm processing here, but I seem to have developed a strong emotional tie to Gene Hunt.' she told herself out loud.

Silence echoed around her.

Alex felt herself blushing at her declaration.

She had no control over her feelings at all.

And she had no control over him either, construct or not.

He drove her mad, and not always in a good way.

Damn it, she was an intelligent woman! She could deal with this! In 2008 she was a well respected profiler, a credit to her department and the Metropolitan Police Force.

But here, with Gene, she had to prove every damn theory, every comment, every idea. It was like having breasts made her incapable of dealing with the realities of life outside a glossy magazine!

'Oh stop that!' she told herself, 'Don't avoid the subject - you bought it up!'

She wasn't sure when the tension had shifted from the usual workplace scenario to a more delicate unspoken sexual one.

And she was pretty sure no one else had noticed. Well, other than Gene that is, and she was never quite sure sometimes if he meant anything when they were bantering.

Until recently that is.

Alex smiled knowingly to herself. 2008 might be the time of the so called new man, but here in 1981, the old Neanderthal man was still swinging his club about. She giggled at the image she painted.

'Oh well,' she sighed, 'At least with Gene there's no subtext - its mostly all text!'

She gently picked up the tie and took it to her bedside table.

In the morning she would take it into work and return it to him. She would thank him for dinner and maybe, just maybe, see if he would let her take him out for a meal.

Later that night, sinking gratefully beneath her duvet, Alex snapped off the bedside light.

She turned over and breathed slowly out.

And then turning back, she reached out and pulled the tie to her, breathing in the scent upon it.

Sleep came very easily to her that night.

And the Clown stayed away.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm too good to you, you know. Two chapters posted on a Saturday night? It's like the Gene Genie turning up at your desk and nicking the biscuits from the office tea swindle whilst you stare open mouthed at a) his presence and b) his bare faced cheek!

**Chapter 5**

Monday morning dawned.

Gene staggered out of bed, yawning and reaching for his first cigarette of the day.

Every week he promised himself he would cut down, and every week he reneged on the promise.

Bloody public information films - they were responsible for the thought that maybe, just maybe, it would be a good thing to give up the tabbing.

Stretching and yawning, Gene flicked the radio on and was greeted with the same cheery Irish voice that seemed to be an institution.

'Morning Terry…' Gene said to the radio as he shaved, taking careful strokes as he slowly woke up.

Grabbing what would pass as breakfast from the café round the corner from his flat, Gene jumped a red light and came to a screeching halt in front of Fenchurch East Police Station.

'Morning Guv.' The ever present Viv greeted him as he shifted through the weekend shift's paperwork.

Gene nodded at him and strode down the corridor towards CID, his breakfast wrapped in many layers of greaseproof paper in his coat pocket. Somehow a fried egg butty never tasted as good without a force issue strong cup of tea.

Ray was in small corner kitchen, searching for milk that might just do, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

'Mornin' Raymundo. How's tricks?' Gene greeted him.

'Would be better if we could get Shaz to bring in milk before the rest of us get in, Guv.' Ray moaned. 'Weekend alright?'

'Yeah. Fine.' Gene didn't really want the rest of CID to know he'd bedded down at Bolly's on Friday night.

Ray raised a quizzical eyebrow, something he wasn't actually that great at, but he liked to think made him look like James Bond.

It didn't.

'We, er, missed you at the end of Friday night in Luigi's y'know…' he tailed off.

Gene sniffed and, to cover his embarrassment, started to search for a clean mug and a plate for his breakfast. Although as the cleaners had been in he didn't have to search far.

'Well, y'know, lousy day, decided to make an early night for once. See the match on Saturday?'

'Did I? Bloody travesty! That was never offside! That ref was either blind or bribed! Either way, he's a div!'

Gene released a slow breath of relief. Now Ray had been successfully distracted by the all pervading subject of football, all would be well.

Eventually, Gene made his way to his office and, digging out his in-tray, whacking open the window in his office, and flicking the radio on, he decided to finally have his breakfast.

Which, of course, decided to explode down his tie.

A loud expletive resounded around the office, and it was only just gone 8am.

Alex stood in front of her full length mirror, a recent purchase after her arrival in 1981.

When she was 'home' she refused to step outside to meet the rest of the world without first checking she hadn't committed some hideous crime against fashion.

And even if now 'fashion' meant copious layers of blue eye shadow and jeans so tight she had to lay down and close them with a coat hanger, well, standards were standards.

Satisfied she wasn't letting herself down she grabbed her keys and purse - oh, how she missed her proper wallet and her all singing and all dancing tiny mobile - and shoved them in her jacket pocket.

Her eyes fell on her bedside table. There was something else she had to take to work with her this morning - like she could forget. Having carefully and gently pressed it, she had folded it up and left it by her clock alarm.

How the hell was she going to get the damn tie back to Gene without the rest of CID seeing and it kick starting the biggest bit of gossip since it was alleged Viv was bigamously married?

(Which turned out to be false information. His wife had just lost a noticeable amount of weight and had a makeover. Chris was still living that one down.)

She went to put the tie in her jacket pocket. No room. In either.

Unsuccessfully, Alex searched for an inside pocket.

'Damn!' she muttered and looked at her jeans.

Not an option.

And she, apparently, didn't take a handbag to work. So taking one in today would just scream 'Something odd is occurring' to the rest of the office. People would notice this one small edition to her outfit.

A sudden thought came to her, and she smiled.

'Maybe, just maybe….' she said and pulled the tie out from it's neat folded state.

A few minutes later she slammed her front door and skipped down the stairs, pulling her sunglasses over her eyes.

'Genius, Alex, you really are a genuis!' she told herself.

Completely missing the funny look the postman gave her as he watched her talking to herself.


	6. Chapter 6

Apologies, apologies. I can't believe I've left you all hanging about waiting for the next chapter of this one. Blimey, what am I like? Er, better not answer that one…  
So, in recompense, here's chapters 6 and 7. And the good news in two parts; 1 - I've finished this fic. Yay! And 2 - I've had another idea for another A2A fic off the back of this one! The Froggy Muses truly are gracing me with their inspirational presence aren't they?  
As usual, enjoy.  
Oh, and if I haven't already said this: Disclaimer. I own nothing, okay? Not the Quattro, not Gene's appalling taste in footwear, not Alex's inability to keep a top on both shoulders at any one time. Not even, and again, sorry, not even the UST.  
Still, I've done my best.  
Moving on….

**Chapter 6 **

Gene stood in the station toilets and looked in the mirror.

No. It obviously didn't count how many times he'd tried to wipe the huge stain off the middle of his tie, it wasn't going to budge.

And now the tie just looked like it had been on a weekend long pub crawl.

He turned the tie over and saw a label there.

'Dry Clean Only.'

The second expletive of the day rang out.

Pulling his jacket closed, he returned to the office to find Alex emerging from the kitchen with her customary mug in hand.

He couldn't help it, but Gene felt his colour rise slightly.

And dropping his eyes he missed the fact that Alex too seemed a bit hot this morning too.

'Morning!' she said, cheery and a little too airily.

'Mornin'' Gene replied.

He looked at her mug.

'Bolls, what the heck are you drinking?' He leaned forward to take a look.

Alex stepped back and hugged the mug to her in both hands.

'Just hot water and lemon. Nothing to get excited about!'

''Ere, you're not on one of those weird diets are you? Because you certainly don't need to lose any weight! You get any skinnier and I won't be able to see you in bright light!'

'You certainly know how to shower a women in compliments first thing in the morning don't you?!' Alex retorted and stepping round him, walked over to her desk and sat down.

'Damn!' Gene muttered under his breath.

Kicking himself mentally for blowing his chance to start the week on a positive note with her, he retreated to his office and slung his jacket over the back of his chair.

Ray came in, needing some overtime forms signed off.

'Thanks Guv,' he said as Gene snaked his signature over the paperwork, ''Ere - did you know you've got half your egg butty down your tie?'

'Yes, thank you, Ray. You may go!' Gene growled.

Ray grabbed the forms and retreated.

A little while later, Shaz knocked on his door and bought him some case files she needed to send off to archives, but which needed his signature on before they went.

'Thanks Sir. By the way - your tie has got a nasty stain on it! You did know, didn't you?'

'Thank you Miss Marple!'

Shaz retreated swiftly.

And then after lunch, Chris came in. He too needed Gene's signature, this time on the last page of his evidence book.

'Desk Sergeant won't let me have another one without it, Guv.' he explained.

Gene wielded his pen again.

'Brilliant, thanks Guv. Hey - did you know….'

But he never got to finish his sentence.

'Yes! I bloody do know Christopher!' Gene exploded.

'Okay, okay Guv!' Chris fled, slamming the door behind him.

Gene sat down, breathing heavily.

He opened his desk drawer and pulling out his whiskey bottle, he poured himself a generous measure.

Looking up, he saw Alex looking at him through the half drawn blinds in his office.

He placed the glass back down, alcohol untouched, and grabbed his jacket and coat.

Opening his door, he buttoned his suit jacket up and slung his coat over his shoulder by one finger.

'Right! I am going out.' he announced.

He glared around the silent room, daring anyone to make a comment.

He strode to the main office door, and holding it half open, called: 'And you're with me, Bolly!'

He heard her walk over to him.

'Is it absolutely necessary? I do have some work to do you know.'

'Yes! It is!' Gene hissed at her.

She sighed heavily, and retreating only to grab her own jacket, and pass some files over to Shaz, she followed him out of the station and into the Quattro.

They drove in silence, windows wide open, through the crowded streets.

Eventually, Alex broke the silence.

'Do we have anywhere special to be?' she asked, a little uncertainly.

Gene prevaricated, indicating to turn left, then swinging the car to the right, causing a squeal of breaks and some indistinct but doubtless ripe language in his wake.

'You know, if you want to cause a major RTA or indeed, commit suicide, I really would prefer you let me out first.'

Silence from the driver's seat.

'Unless you are going to let me talk you out of it.'

Continued silence.

'Oh for God's sake man!! What the hell is up with you?!'

Gene pulled the Quattro over and switched the engine off.

They sat in silence. Alex staring with a quizzical look on her face, Gene finding his keys all absorbing.

Finally, Alex could stand it no more.

She swivelled in the passenger seat, opened the door and got out of the car.

She bent back to stare back at Gene, who looked up at her with a blank expression on his face.

'And you've got half your breakfast down your tie!!' Alex told him, slamming the door behind her.

The car rocked and Gene snapped.

No one disrespected the Quattro! Not even Bollinger Knickers!

'Oi!' he shouted out his open window, 'Come back!'

But Alex was striding down the street and disappeared round the corner.

Gene fired up the Audi again and screeched round the road after her.

And nearly caused a major claim on his insurance by narrowly missing the back end of a red Routemaster bus.

Third expletive of the day.

By the time the bus has moved, leaving behind a large cloud of carbon monoxide in it's wake, Alex was nowhere to be seen.

Gene pulled over, and switched the Audi's ignition off.

Some days, it seemed, whoever was in charge hated you, no matter what you did.

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. Lighting it and drawing in deeply, Gene closed his eyes and tried to bring his racing mind to a more sedate pace.

In so doing, he missed the traffic warden crossing the road behind him, and it wasn't till the ticket had been slipped under the Audi's passenger side windscreen wiper that Gene clicked.

He leapt out of the car, causing a passing cyclist to have to swerve violently in the path of an oncoming taxi.

'And to you mate!' Gene yelled at the two wheeled curser.

'Oi!!' he continued, to the traffic warden, 'Doesn't this mean anything?'

The warden rolled her eyes at the sight of him bellowing and waving his warrant card at her.

'Not when you're parked on those!' she told him, smugly, pointing at the double yellow lines, and set off at a brisk pace down a side street.

Leaning over the bonnet and retrieving the maliciously coloured parking ticket, DCI Hunt muttered his fourth expletive of the day.

He started the Audi back up and flicked on the radio, hoping to hear something that might be a balm to his increasingly frayed nerves.

'Ever fallen in love with someone, ever fallen in love, in love with someone, ever fallen in love, in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with?' sang the so-called lead singer.

'Arggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!'

Some days the entire world hates you. And there's nothing you can do about it.


	7. Chapter 7

And here's Chapter 7. Okay, things turn in a pretty unpleasant direction here, but stick with it okay? Though it may get worse before it gets better.

**Chapter 7**

A little while later, Gene parked up and walked round the corner into Luigi's.

It was early still, but Luigi was there, polishing a wine glass and singing off key - just for a bit of variation to his routine.

'Tell me, quando, quando, quando!' he quavered to the glass.

'Blimey Luigi, thought you was strangling a cat down here!' Gene told him leaning against the bar.

'Signor Hunt. Always the funny man.' Luigi replied with a straight face.

'Yeah, well after the day I've had you'd be this funny too.' Gene told him. 'Scotch. Double.'

'Is it not a bit early for you?' Luigi told him, hovering with a glass by the optics.

'When did you turn into my mother?' Gene fixed him with a glare known to make the police dogs think twice and lit up, 'Scotch. Double. Don't make me have to ask again!'

Luigi filled the glass and carefully passed it over the bar.

Gene picked up the alcohol and made straight for the darkest corner of the restaurant.

He sat down, and was once again faced with his egg stained tie. He put his drink down and, pulling the tie from around his neck, crumpled it and threw it on the table in front of him.

He was halfway through his drink when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Light footsteps, belonging to a woman wearing heels.

Gene's blood ran cold for a second, and it wasn't totally to his surprise when Alex wearily walked up to the bar and asked for a very large glass of red wine.

Luigi made sympathetic noises and passed her the drink she asked for, no questions asked, Gene noticed.

Alex sat at the bar until Luigi whispered something to her and made the slightest of nods to Alex.

She pivoted in her seat and looked at Gene.

Neither of them moved, they just sat there looking at each other.

Finally, Gene cracked.

'Think you've had a crap day, Bols?' he called across the empty space between them.

'You don't know the half of it.' she replied.

'Give me a laugh and tell me about it,' Gene told her, making space for her on the seat beside him.

Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise at this offer, but slid off the high chair she had been slumped on and walked over to him.

To Gene's surprise, she didn't sit opposite him, but did actually step round the side of the Formica table and slide across the seat to sit next to him.

'This alright?' she asked, and if her tone was just a little to this side of trying too hard to sound casual, Gene made himself ignore it.

'Yeah. Fine.' he forced himself to say.

'So,' Alex started, taking a swig of her wine and then putting the glass down on the table, 'cheered up any? Or are you still doing your infamous impression of a bear with a sore head?'

'Bolly, one day I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm thinking when you say things like that..'

'Oh!' Alex held her hands up in mock horror to her face at this, 'that will make such a difference!'

Then she grinned at him, reaching for her wine glass again.

Gene made himself look away, and reached in his pocket. He produced his parking ticket and slid it across the table to her.

'Oh dear - whose been a naughty police officer?' Alex asked him playfully.

'It's your fault!' he retorted.

'My fault?! How can your bad parking be my fault?!'

'If you hadn't run off in a fit of pique I wouldn't have needed to park!'

'Oh well, that makes it all my fault, doesn't it?!'

A cough came in the silence between them as they glared at each other.

'Much as I hate to interrupt the witty cut and thrust of an intelligent conversation…' the quiet, educated voice enounced perfectly.

Alex and Gene looked up to see Evan White standing in front of their table.

'May I join you?' he asked.

'Certainly.' replied Alex, suddenly switching from argumentative to charming.

'I'm not interrupting am I?' Evan asked. And although the question would seem to be directed at both of them, Gene knew the other man was really only talking to Alex.

'Yes!' Gene told him, his tone telling the younger man to bugger off and die somewhere quietly.

'No!' Alex replied at exactly the same time.

Evan smiled, a little bit too slickly for Gene, at Alex and placing his briefcase down on the floor, sat in the chair opposite them.

'So, Alex, how are you?' Evan asked.

'Me? Fine. You?' Alex replied.

Gene simmered and without excusing himself, stood up and walked over to the bar for another drink.

The more he saw of Evan the less he liked him. Slimy bastard. He seemed to turn up at the least provocation, simpering and oozing lawyerly charm over Alex who, Gene thought, seemed to lap up the attention.

Gene leant on the bar, trying not to listen in on the obvious play Evan was making for Alex.

When, suddenly, and to his great pleasure, Alex's voice went up in volume.

'No. I haven't been avoiding you. I've just been really busy!'

'I've called and called, Alex. I've left messages with that young constable you work with! You're avoiding me Alex and I don't like that!'

'Evan, believe me, it's been mad at work, and I've just been too tired to want to go out!'

Gene watched out of the corner of his eye as Evan reached across the table.

'Alex, I thought we had an understanding! I won't let you ignore that!'

'Evan, please let go of my arm!'

That was enough for Gene. He slammed his drink down on the bar and marched over to the table where he could see that Evan had a tight grasp of Alex's wrist.

'You heard the lady. Let go of her.'

'This is none of your business, DCI Hunt.' Evan told him callously.

Alex looked up at Gene, a frightened expression on her face.

Gene reached down and, taking Evan's hand off Alex's arm, forced the lawyer back in his chair.

'I suggest you leave now, Mr White.' Gene told him, in a tone that brook no argument.

'You can't tell me to go!' Evan said petulantly, 'This is free country!'

'No, you're right there. So I'd be within my free civil rights to punch you till the blood pooled around my feet! Your attentions to DI Drake are not welcome.'

Evan stood up and looked up at Gene, a loathing emanating from him.

Alex had her eyes cast down and was nursing her wrist.

'For the last time, Mr White, I suggest you leave. Do you understand me?' Gene told him.

Evan grabbed his briefcase and stood up. Casting an evil look at Alex, he turned on his heel and walked out of the bar.


	8. Chapter 8

And this is it - the last chapter of 'MMB'. I can only apologise for the er, nearly 2 months waiting time on this last chapter. I only hope you feel it has been worth the wait. In the meantime, I've been working on another couple of A2A and LoM fics, not sure whats going to happen to those, only time will tell.  
Thanks for those of you who have very flatteringly set Story Alerts and Favourite Story markers for this one, consider me chuffed :)  
Final reviews on this fic pending, thanks very much and heres to S2 and the next fic round :)  
Fire Up the Quattro and the Gene Genie forever!!

Chapter 8

Gene slid round the table again and sat down, leaving a space between himself and Alex.

'You alright?' he asked softly.

Alex sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. Gene searched for his handkerchief and pressed it into her hand.

She looked up and took the material, brushing her fingers on his hand as she did.

'Thanks Gene.' she said quietly.

'You're welcome.' Gene held back asking for details from her.

'That's been coming for a couple of weeks.'

'Alex, you don't have to explain if you don't, y'know…'

'No, I want to. I owe you an explanation.' she sat a little more upright and pushed her hair from her face.

'Evan's started to call a lot more, ever since we had a quiet drink together about a couple of weeks ago. I told him I only wanted to be friends, that I couldn't be any more than that with him, but he wasn't listening to me.'

'Looks like he still isn't getting the message.'

Alex smiled wanly at Gene, trying to put a brave face for him.

'I think it might be sinking in now. Thanks to you.'

'I have my uses.' Gene smiled back at her.

'And I owe you a drink.' Alex told him, waving her fingers to attract Luigi's attentions.

The Italian owner saw, nodded and grinned at them and was almost immediately over to their table with a scotch for Gene, another wine glass and a full bottle of red wine.

'On the house,' he told them, smiling at them both and returning to polishing his wine glasses.

'Thanks,' Gene raised his glass to her, 'Cheers.'

'Cheers,' Alex clinked her glass against his, 'Oh! I have something for you!'

'Easy, Bols, it's a public place!'

Alex raised her eyebrow suggestively and held out her hand.

Gene looked at it.

'Give me your hand then..' she told him.

'Is this one of those weird posh bird initiation ceremonies?' Gene asked her.

'No! Just be quiet a minute!'

And so saying she pulled her belt from around her waist.

'Bloody hell Bolly! Can't we just go to your flat!' Gene was taken aback, at her bravado.

And then he saw it wasn't a belt she was pressing into his hand.

It was a tie.

His tie.

Sam's tie.

Gene looked down at the strip of material, slightly creased from it's job as a temporary belt, and then looked at Alex.

'I wondered where that had got to…'

'I thought you might have. I did press it, but, er, as you can see, it might need a quick iron again. Sorry about that.'

'I can't believe you used my favourite tie as a belt!'

'I can't believe you left on Saturday morning without a word!'

'Ah. Yeah, well, I didn't like to disturb you. You could be a right sight first thing without your slap on, Bols.'

'Oh thank you very much!'

This time, Alex wasn't arguing with him. In fact, she was smiling and teasing - almost flirting? Gene wondered?

He slid the tie round his shirt collar, leaving it dangling round his neck.

'Oh you can't leave it like that!' Alex told him, and placing her wine glass on the table, she leaned over.

Gene submitted to her as she fastened the tie round his neck, and then sat back.

'Better?' he asked.

'Hmmmm. Not quite.' she answered, and leaning forward again, she pulled the knot loose and undid his shirt top button.

They sat practically nose to nose for a moment, and then Gene cleared his throat.

'Thanks Bolly.' he returned to his drink.

Alex reached her hand across the seat and covered his hand with hers, making Gene start.

He looked at her as she scooted across the seat and very gently but firmly kissed him on the cheek.

'Thank you.' she told him in his ear, and pulled back a little.

'You're welcome,' he replied after a lapse into silence, 'What for?'

'For looking after me. Even when I don't realise you are.'

She smiled at him, a light in her eyes telling him she meant what she was telling him.

Gene gently squeezed her hand with his, and nodded at her.

The sounds of the rest of CID arriving for the evening drinking made them pull apart slightly, but the memory of the pressure of her lips on his cheek and the feeling of her hand on his kept Gene gently smiling the rest of the evening.

Shaz certainly noticed the looks that the pair were exchanging, but hugged the secret to herself.

Chris and Ray were seemingly oblivious to what was going on that evening, and Shaz herself had no intention of spoiling the mood between her senior officers.

At the end of the evening, the bar slowly emptied, and Gene and Alex were still sitting side by side, talking.

Luigi cleared up, emptying glasses, switching off lights, upending chairs on tables, and finally, loath to interrupt, but desperate for his bed, he coughed loudly.

'Signor Hunt - I need my sleep now.' he announced and nodded at the clock behind the bar.

'Right you are, Luigi. Leave the keys for the bar on the side, eh?'

'Gene!' Alex giggled, 'For goodness sake!'

Luigi stood, looking at the two of them.

It was times like this he missed his mother, dead these ten years and buried in a small cemetery just outside of Rome. She would often sit and watch people as he ran his father's bar, Luigi reminisced. 'Mama' would sit, and smile and crochet, all the while watching and matchmaking.

Luigi could see her now, waggling her finger at Gene and winking at Alex in that all knowing way that elderly women seem to have the knack of.

He watched, as back in the real world, Alex stood up and pulled Gene to his feet.

'Thank you Signorina,' he told her quietly, silently promising to wipe a small amount off her tab the next day.

'G'night Luigi,' Gene nodded at him as he stood by the door.

'Signor Hunt, good night.' Luigi said, and with almost indecent haste, he encouraged both detectives out of the door and onto the steps that led to the street.

Alex giggled again, as the blinds in the windows snapped down and lights inside the bar flicked off.

She turned and sat down on the top step, looking at Gene, who was looking at her.

Her face was illuminated by the garish neon light, but still, Gene thought she was gorgeous.

He could see her mascara was slightly smudged under her eyes, and her hair was starting to straighten out after the warm fug of the bar, but she still had the power to render him incoherent.

With love? With desire? With total confusion?

Whatever it was, it was late, and she wasn't going to give him time to work it out tonight.

Alex stood up and held out her hand to him.

'C'mon Gene,' she told him, 'Time for us to go home.'

'If you say so Bolly. Me, I could go another couple of pints, but you being a bird and all…' he replied, climbing the steps to stand beside her on the pavement by his Quattro.

Alex dropped her head back and stretched her hands to the sky, standing on her toes as she did so.

In the distance, a church clock struck midnight.

'I'd better go in,' she announced, stifling a yawn, 'It's late.'

'Turn into pumpkin do yer?' Gene said, as she rolled her eyes at him and dug in her jacket pocket for her keys.

They walked to the entrance door slowly, neither of them actually wanting the evening to end.

'You didn't have to walk me home.' Alex smiled at him.

'There are some dangerous people round here, Bols.' he told her.

'And - don't tell me - you're one of them?' she teased, looking at him through her lashes and taking a step closer to him.

Her sudden proximity made Gene gulp, and his voice was huskier than he had intended when he tried to reply.

'You'll be safe now, anyway.'

Alex looked up at him, pushing her hair back from her face and smiling coyly.

'Oh, I always am when you're about, Gene.' she said.

And for the second time that evening, she leant towards him and very carefully kissed him on the cheek.

Gene couldn't help himself, he leant into the tiny amount of pressure being applied to his face and closed his eyes, revelling in it.

When he opened his eyes again, Alex was looking over her shoulder as she let herself into the main staircase to her flat.

'See you tomorrow Gene.' she told him.

'Yeah, see you tomorrow, Bols,' he replied, but she had gone.

Standing on the pavement, Gene breathed in deeply. The smell of Alex's perfume clung to him, and he could almost feel her lips on his cheek again.

A moment later he heard a noise above him and he automatically looked up to see her leaning out of her living room window.

'Sweet dreams, Gene!' she softly called and waved to him, though it was more of a waggling of fingers that he saw before the window closed again and he saw the light go out.

Back in his own flat, the smell of perfume seemed to stay with him, and it wasn't until he was laying his tie over the back of a chair that he realised where it was coming from.

Alex had worn his tie all day, and in doing so, it had become impregnated with her scent.

Gene held the tie up to his face and deeply breathed in, closing his eyes.

He slept well that night, the scent of Alex's perfume a gentle reminder that despite the confusing and often conflicting emotions she raised in him, he, Gene Hunt, the Gene Genie, was glad she was here.

And who knew where that kind of thinking would lead?


End file.
